A New Hope
by ardavenport
Summary: Change comes into the lives of the crew of Station 51, some tragic, some wonderful and Johnny feels a little left out by it for awhile. NOT the crossover that the title might imply.
1. Chapter 1

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

* * *

John Gage knew that something was wrong that morning even before he could figure out what it was. But it came to him as soon as he drove his Jeep into the driveway, right past the flag pole in front of Station Fifty-One.

The flags weren't up.

He was cutting it a little close getting into work. Not quite late. Not as late as Chet Kelly, whose car was right behind his. But the flags should have been up by then. Red, white and blue stars and stripes with the California bear under that against a cloudless blue sky.

The mystery deepened as he rolled into the parking lot behind the station. The spaces were all full. With cars from his A-shift, C-shift, plus two red cars, one for the battalion chief and another apparently from headquarters. He stopped his Jeep and got out. Kelly got out of his car, blocking the alley driveway since there was no other place to go. People were standing around, C-shift in civilian clothes, everyone grim-faced. A few clustered around the battalion chief. Captain Stanley turned their way.

"Gage! Kelly! Get inside and get dressed. Right now."

John raised a hand. "Uh, Cap - - ?"

"Right now, you two! Move it!"

Gage and Kelly briefly glanced at each other before jogging through the open apparatus bay door into the rear of the station to the locker room door. John glimpsed his partner, Roy DeSoto already dressed in uniform, breaking away from three guys from C-shift and moving their way.

"What the hell happened?" Kelly opened his locker and started unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

"I don't know." Gage took a clean blue uniform shirt out and began pinning his name tag on it.

Roy pushed the locker room door open.

"Roy, what's going on?" Kelly, in undershirt and boxer shorts looked up from his locker, a black boot in each hand. Roy licked his lips, his expression lost.

"Captain Hookrater died."

"What?" John barely whispered the word. Kelly just mouthed the words, 'He died?"

"What _happened_? Was it a fire? An accident? What's everyone still doing here?" Gage straightened, shirt still in hand, his badge still on the bench.

Roy shook his head. "He died in his sleep."

Now John's mouth hung open. "He died in his sleep? Well-well, how could that happen?"

"We don't know. I mean, the engine crew went out on a run last night. It was just a trash fire. They got back around two and went right to bed. They all swear Hookrater looked fine."

"Well, what about the squad? Did they see anything? I mean, was he sick _at all_?"

Roy shook his head again. "They didn't see him; they didn't go out on the last run. They heard the crew come back in, but they didn't have another run after that. When the alarm went off this morning. . . " Roy swallowed, "he just didn't get up. Dwyer said he was . . . he said he was cold."

John ran his hand through his hair. The overhead lights reflected off the polished, curved silver of his badge on the wooden bench.

"You um, you ah, better get dressed." Roy waved a hand toward them before letting it drop at his side. "The Chief's going to be here for the lineup." He gave Kelly a serious look. "The Cap's gonna come down pretty hard on anyone who even cracks a smile about Hookrater dying."

Chet, who had remained dumbfounded by his locker during the whole exchange between the two paramedics, put a hand to his chest. "Not me! I might have hated the guy, but no way was I ever rooting for him to die!"

Roy nodded. Nobody had liked C-shifts hard-nosed Captain 'Hook' Hookrater . . . . but no one had ever expected him to leave this way. Roy left. Kelly went back to checking his pockets for his badge. Gage stripped off his jeans and took out his uniform slacks.

"Damn. Guy dies in the middle of the night. Two paramedics in the beds right next to him. Nobody knows anything's wrong until it's too late. Dwyer and Benton have got to be feeling petty lousy this morning." Kelly pulled his pants up and buckled the belt.

"Don't I know it." John had been thinking the same thing. Had they missed some subtle cue? Or had Hookrater been toughing it out through something? Chest pains maybe? He had been a militaristic and unforgiving Captain; not the type to ever want to show any weakness. But he'd had the same first-aid training that everyone else had. He should know enough to ask for help if he had something as obvious as chest pains. Or perhaps he had just died in his sleep? He hadn't been a young man, but early fifties wasn't that old either.

They quickly finished dressing (Chet's badge had been in it's case in one of his boots) and left. the locker room. They passed the squad and engine were in apparatus bay. Ready for service. John wondered if dispatch was sending any of their runs to other stations. In the parking lot, it looked like the battalion chief and the people from headquarters were individually talking to everyone from C-shift. They paused uncertainly between engine and squad about where to go until Roy signaled them from the doorway of the dayroom. Except for Captain Stanley, the rest of A-shift tensely sat around the kitchen table. Gage and Kelly took seats across from them. After a minute of grim silence, John couldn't stand it anymore.

"So, Roy, did you talk to Dwyer and Benton?"

"Yeah." He clutched his coffee cup on the table before him.

"Do they have any idea what happened?"

"They don't know. They just . . . . they don't know."

Lopez speculated. "Heart attack? Stroke?"

Stoker hunched his shoulders. "Greg said that he didn't look like he was in pain. In fact, he looked peaceful. Made him look ten years younger." Mike, who usually got in early, had apparently talked to the C-shift engineer.

"Yeah, well I guess being dead would do that for a guy like Hookrater."

Roy gave Chet a stern glare. "You better not let the Captain hear you say that."

"I'm not bad-mouthing him!" Chet spoke to the whole group at the table. "I'm just stating the facts. Hookrater was always on everybody's case. He was always uptight about something not being good enough and riding people about it. That kind of thing has just got to take it out of a person. High blood pressure? Stress? I'll bet anything that's what it was."

"I guess he should have retired when he had the chance." Lopez clasped his hands before him and rested his chin on them. Hookrater had planned to retire. All the shifts at Station Fifty-One, and people from other fire stations who had served with him, came to celebrate his imminent departure from their ranks. They had just neglected to tell the guest of honor what everyone was really happy about. He mistook it for admiration for his leadership. And cancelled his retirement.

They mumbled some words about a service, but it was too soon to even speculate. No one knew much about Hookrater's family. He was married and had grown sons. John and Chet got up and got some coffee from the pot by the sink and went back to their seats. John was sure now that headquarters had diverted any runs to other stations, but they couldn't do that for too long.

They all turned when Captain Stanley burst in.

"Gage! Kelly! Get out here and move your cars. You're blocking the driveway!"

They jumped to it, first running to their lockers to get their keys. They just moved them to the for side of the lot by the hose tower. The headquarters cars left first. Then the guys from C-shift. Chet and Johnny exchanged abbreviated waved farewells as they left. No one really wanted to talk anymore. After they moved their cars into empty spaces they ran back inside and joined the lineup by the engine.

"Well, ah, I guess you've already talked among yourselves about this, so to clear up any rumors that might have gotten started, the preliminary finding on the cause Captain Hookrater's death is natural causes. The Chief will be in charge of the investigation and he will pass on any relevant information as its determined." Stanley looked down at his clipboard. "Captain Hookrater's family has been notified and the Chief has extended the department's condolences for their loss." Everyone stayed at silent attention. Nobody had liked Hookrater, Not even Captain Stanley, but he still felt that a fellow captain deserved some respect.

"And the Chief has authorized us to fly the flag at half mast today. You take care of that, Mike."

Sure, Cap."

"All right, we still have a fire station to run here . . . " Stanley looked up, apparently relieved to move on to more mundane tasks of station duties. After that the lineup broke up. Johnny and Roy went about checking the equipment in the squad. The drug box was low on IV bags and a few other things; Roy had only briefly reviewed what they needed with Dwyer and Benton for obvious reasons. They were checking the O2 when Captain Stanley came around the engine.

"Hey, Roy, can you come over here and help me with this?"

"Sure, Cap."

Johnny continued with changing the large tank. He was just finishing with it, stowing it back in the rear right compartment when Roy came back.

"What did the Captain want?"

Roy glanced back toward the dormitory. "Oh, he, uh, wanted help with changing the mattresses. We switched his for the empty one on the end."

"Oh."

"Can't really blame him. Hookrater dying on that one and all."

Johnny nodded, his eyes pointed forward but not really seeing anything. Hookrater dying. Right in the station. Right there in the dorm. It wasn't the worst way for a firefighter to go, but . . . .

"Johnny?"

"Huh?" He looked at his partner.

"Did you take care of the O2 tank?"

"Oh." He turned back toward the rear compartments. "Oh, yeah, I got it."

Roy sighed and leaned his back against the side of the squad.

"I sure wouldn't mind getting a run about now. Just to take my mind off things."

"Yeah." Johnny sighed.

Roy folded his arms before him.

Nothing happened.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

* * *

Their first run didn't come until after 10 AM. A single car traffic accident. The whole station responded.

There was no fire, only gasoline that they hosed down off the street. The single elderly occupant of the white four-door had needed to be pried out with the jaws of life and accompanied to the hospital, though he was not hurt too badly. And he was more upset about the damage to his car.

After delivering the victim to Doctor Brackett, Johnny and Roy took the drug box to the Rampart bay station desk to restock their supplies.

"Well, what's with the long faces?" Dixie McCall, the emergency department's head nurse, walked up to them as Roy helped himself to bandages and saline bags when Johnny checked their list. "I though that traffic accident victim wasn't hurt too bad."

"Oh he's going to be fine. But his car's a total loss." Johnny listlessly put packets into the tray slots of the drug box.

"You didn't hear?" Roy held packets of saline and tubing.

Dixie shook her head.

"Captain Hookrater died last night."

Dixie's eyes widened. "What? Did they bring him here? I didn't hear anything about a firemen being injured."

Roy shook his head. "He died in his sleep. When they got up this morning, Dwyer and Benton said he was cold."

"What's going on?" Doctor Early joined them, his expression curious. They told him. And about what they found when they came into work that morning.

"The medical examiner is going to do an autopsy to find out what he died from," Roy shurgged, "since he was on duty when it happened. Cap's really upset about it."

"You look a little upset yourself." Dixie looked up at him with concern.

"Well, I didn't really know him that well. Didn't really like him, but . . . . nobody wanted him to die."

"Is there going to be a service?" Early looked from one to the other paramedics.

"Sure." Johnny closed the drug box and flipped the latch. "But we don't know when. That's up to his family." He picked up the box. They said their farewells and left.

Lunch was just getting started when they got back to the station. Hot dogs and canned beans. Nobody had wanted to do anything more elaborate than that. But the ice seemed to have broken about talking about Hookrater. They all agreed that he had known his way around a fire as well any captain. But his obsession with perfection and regulation cleanliness had earned him none of the loyalty he imagined he had. C-shift had the highest turnover. Captain Stanley muttered humble gratitude that none of his crew expressed any interest in leaving except for the possibility of promotion.

And it was C-shift that had Station Fifty-One's only death in a fire in the line of duty. No one blamed Hookrater for it, but even the other captains wondered if things would have turned out differently if Hookrater had been less tone-deaf to his men's low morale.

Now, Hookrater himself was the station's second death in the line of duty, though the circumstances were vastly different. They all had stories about him. About polished trash cans and nozzles. Bed inspections where Hookrater tested how high quarters bounced on the tightly made covers. Hoses hung and sparkling porcelain in the latrine. And on the other side of things, Captain Stanley admitted that he always heard half-serious jokes from the men about him coming over to C-shift.

Oooooooeeeeeeee-mmmmaaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

"Squad Fifty-One - Man down. At the movie theater - Seventeen twenty-three, A Hundred-and-ninety-fourth Street - One-Seven-Two-Three, A Hundred-and-ninety-fourth Street- Cross Street - Buford. Time Out, Twelve fifty-three."

**%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**

The first thing DeSoto and Gage saw when they turned into the big parking lot of the new multi-plex theater was a huge line.

"What is going on?" Johnny scanned down the line of people in summer clothes, looking for any problem. Someone ahead waved at them. There was a teenager lying on the pavement, three others standing around him.

Roy stopped the squad next to them, got out and went to the kid. Johnny got the drug box and biophone out on his side and came around the front of the squad.

"He fainted." A skinny teenager in t-shirt and jeans looked up from the one on the ground. Two others nervously hung their heads, one tall with brown bangs to his eyes, the other with long dingy-blonde hair, both of them heavily acne-ed. A girl in a very bad and large brown wig and a full length baggy white dress belted at the waist clung close of the blond haired kid.

The one on the ground wore black. Black pants, black turtleneck shirt, tall black rubber boots. A heavy black cape tied around his neck. A black motorcycle helmet lay on the sidewalk.

"Can everyone step back here." Johnny waved the spectators back as they both knelt down by the victim.

Roy looked up at the teenagers. "Can you tell us his name?"

"His name's Mark Yancy. And he's going to be bummed that he's going to miss the movie."

"Mark? Mark?" Johnny leaned over him and shook his shoulder but got no response. His skin was flushed and sweaty. He unclasped the black cape and felt on his wrist for a pulse; it was fast. Roy had the biophone out and called Rampart.

"Ooooh man, Mark's really going to be bummed that he missed the movie this time." The girl in the white dress leaned close to the boy with the bangs and pimples and he put his arm around her waist.

"How old is he?" Roy looked up again, the biophone receiver at his ear.

A boy wearing horned rim glasses, a karate gi and white rubber boots spoke up. "He's eighteen. Just had his birthday. Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. Can you tell us what happened?" Roy squinted at the oddly dressed group. The other people in line were nudging closer, peering around each other to see what was going on.

Johnny passed the pulse and respiration to Roy just as a balding middle-aged man in a tie and white short-sleeved shirt came running up to them.

"Is he okay? Is he okay?"

Both Roy and Johnny looked up. Roy lowered the biophone receiver.

"He's going to be fine. Are you related to him?"

"No, no, no! I'm the theater manager! I called you guys! These kids! I don't believe it! It's only a movie!" He turned around in a circle. Roy shrugged at Johnny before looking back up at the frazzled manager.

"Has someone called an ambulance? His family?"

"Yes, yes, yes! I called an ambulance! I called his mother! I don't know what I'm going to do with these kids! Really! It's just a movie!" He turned around in another circle. Johnny finished with the BP.

"120 over 80."

Roy confirmed the vitals and passed them on to Rampart. Morton diagnosed heat exhaustion and ordered an IV with D5W and four liters of oxygen. Johnny was already stretching out the tubing for the IV from the drug box while Roy took put the nasal cannula over Mark's head. People in the crowd around them leaned forward. A shadow fell over the arm that Johnny swabbed.

"Could you all step back, please? Please, give him some air." Johnny held up his hands, looking both ways. The crowd guiltily inched back. Except for the theater manager who nervously wiped his brow with a white handkerchief.

"These kids are just crazy these days."

Johnny got the IV going just as a blue station wagon drove up and stopped with a screech of brakes. A woman in sunglasses, blue shirt and plaid pants got out. Slightly graying brown wavy hair showed under the flowered scarf tied over her head.

"Mark? What happened? What's going on?"

"Ma'am, are you related to him?" Johnny could hear the ambulance siren, coming into the huge parking lot.

"I"m his mother. And just what are you doing to my son?" Her lipstick-red mouth frowned at them with accusation.

"Ma'am, is he eighteen?"

"Well, yes, he turned eighteen last month, but he's still my son and I assure you that his father will be paying for his schooling this fall."

Roy got up. "Ma'am, your son fainted from the heat while waiting in line here. He's going to be just fine, but we're going to take him to the hospital. Just as a precaution; make sure he's okay."

The ambulance drove up.

Still on the ground, Mark groaned. Johnny put an hand on the arm with the IV in it.

"Oooooh, what happened?" He blinked up at them.

Johnny leaned over him. "Mark, you fainted. We're paramedics with the LA County Fire Department. How're you feeling?"

"Oooh, a little dizzy."

"You feel dizzy?"

"Yeeeeahh."

"Oh, Mark what have you been doing? Just wait until your father hears about this." His mother pushed forward, blocking the ambulance attendants, the gurney between them. "I don't understand you and your friends getting so obsessed about a silly space movie."

Mark rolled his eyes back and moaned. "Oooooooooh, I feel sick now."

"You feel sick?" Roy looked back and forth between wayward son and irate mother. "Uh, Ma'am, could you let them through, please." He reached out and waved the two attendants over while the mother scowled.

"Where are you taking him?"

Johnny closed up the biophone and the drug box. "We're taking him to Rampart General Hospital."

Mark suddenly tensed and tried to sit up. Johnny grabbed his IV arm again.

"Oh, wait, I'll miss the movie!"

"Hey, don't move that arm. You don't want to mess up your IV."

The kid with the acne and dingy-blond hair spoke up. "Hey, tough luck Mark! We'll think of you while we're in there."

"Oh, man, I can't miss it." His pleading eyes went from one paramedic to the other, desperate for a reprieve.

Johnny tried reasoning with him. "Hey, you'll just have to catch the later show. You're not in any shape to enjoy it anyway."

His mother laid down the law. "You are going to the hospital, so stop arguing about it. And you've already seen it, anyway."

"He's already seen it?" baffled, Johnny looked back down at the victim. "Have you already seen this movie?"

"Five times!" He sounded shockingly proud of this accomplishment. "We were going to make it six together."

Roy looked just as confused. "Well, uh, maybe you should take this showing off this time. It'll still be playing here tomorrow." He nodded to the attendants and they all helped Mark onto the stretcher while his mother promised a dire judgement from Mark's father.

Johnny went with him in the ambulance while Roy drove the squad in behind. But he glanced at the theater marquee before they left.

The name at the top read 'Star Wars.'

**

* * *

- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 3**

Johnny joined his partner at the emergency department base station after leaving Mark in the care of Doctor Morton.

"Can you believe that kid we just brought in?" He shook his head and stopped by the counter where Roy was re-stocking the drug box. "I can't imagine waiting in a line like that just to see a movie once, let alone five times."

Roy shrugged and smiled. "Well, according to Doctor Early, it's a pretty good flick. He's going to take Dixie to it tonight."

The older, gray-haired doctor smirked over his coffee cup. "I guarantee you Roy, your kids will love it. It's made for kids."

Johnny leaned on the counter. "Hunh? If it's just a kids' movie, why do you like it?"

"It's not like any other movie you've ever seen. It's fantastic. It's completely different. You've never seen anything like it."

Johnny sneered skeptically. "Well, what in it?"

Dixie held up a warning hand. "Not one word. I keep hearing people talking about this movie and I don't want to hear any more before I see it."

"Well, how d'you know you're gonna to like it?"

She shrugged. "If it's as good as everyone says it is, then it'll stand on it's own. If not, I'll know that Joe here has fallen for an epidemic of bad taste. Besides, he's paying."

Early kept smiling. "Believe me, you won't be disappointed."

"Well, all my kids' friends have been talking about it and they've been bugging me and Joanne to take them to see it, so I'll let you know what I think." Roy closed the drug box and snapped the catch. "Ready?" He glanced at his partner.

"Got everything?"

"Yep." He picked up the box. "See you later." Both paramedics waved and walked down the hallway toward the exit. They put the equipment into the squad compartments.

Johnny and Roy turned around when a white station wagon screeched to a stop behind them at the emergency entrance. A woman with short brown hair and wearing slacks with a green and yellow flowered shirt popped out of the driver's side.

"Oh, help me please! It's my sister!"

They joined the woman as she opened the front passenger door for a frail thin blonde woman in a pink top and white pants that hung loosely over her body. Her eyes looked large and sunken under her makeup. She gave them a wan and embarrassed smile.

"I'll get a wheelchair." Johnny ran back inside.

Roy knelt down next to her. "Ma'am, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Auntie Sheila got sick again."

Roy saw a little girl in pigtails peering at them through thick-lensed glasses from the back seat.

"Oh, hush." The woman in the flowered shirt hastily opened the door. The little girl, and then another smaller one, maybe five years old, carefully climbed out.

Roy turned back to Sheila. "Ma'am are you in any pain at all? Are you having any trouble breathing?"

She coughed. "Not any more than usual." She held out a hand, all tendons and wrinkles and large knuckles. "But wait. . . . . I know you." She smiled broadly, her eyes bright, her face made more frightening and sickly as she bared her teeth and gums. "You were one of paramedics who came the first time I fainted." She looked up. "Patty, he's one of the ones who came when I first fainted on the sidewalk."

Roy said nothing. He was sure he would have remembered going on a run for this woman.

"It was the first time I fainted. Outside of that store that cheated me with their crummy amplifier. I never got my money back for it." She patted his arm and her voice firmed up with the memory of the insult.

Roy's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. I remember. You were shopping. You had a bag with you." He hoped his smile looked genuine because he dared not utter what he was thinking.

_What had happened to her?_

Johnny returned with an orderly and a wheelchair.

"Here, let's help you in here." He felt bone and very little muscle in her emaciated arms and shoulders as he helped lift her up into the wheelchair as gently as he could. One of her shoes almost came off as Johnny lifted her feet onto the foot rests.

"Thank-you." Patty touched his arm, her eyes unhappily going to sick woman being wheeled into the emergency entrance. "The cancer's been very hard on my sister. I really appreciate your help. Come on girls." She collected the little girls and herded them in after the orderly.

Johnny turned back to the squad, but Roy stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Hang on a minute." Roy went back inside with a baffled partner following. He spotted Brackett in the hallway with Dixie.

"Dr. Brackett," Roy pointed toward Sheila, Patty and the girls by the admissions desk, "we just helped that woman over there and her sister told us she had cancer."

Both of them looked; Dixie recognized them first. "Oh, yeah, Sheila Dunbar. She's been here a few times."

"We just helped her out of her car. Her sister said she has cancer. It looks pretty serious."

Doctor Brackett lowered his eyes before answering. "I can't say anything specific about a patient's condition, but yeah, Roy, it's about as serious as it gets."

"Doc, do you remember that run we had a few months ago where we had a victim who had fainted, but was okay? And you broke the rules to let us leave her to go to a traffic accident nearby." He pointed. "That was her."

Johnny's mouth opened in surprise. "What?" His head turned toward the thin woman in the wheelchair waiting while her sister talked to the admissions nurse. He quickly turned back to his partner. "You're kidding me."

"No. That was her. She recognized me when I helped her out of her car." Roy inwardly cringed with embarrassment when he remembered how annoyed he had been with her. While there was a serious traffic accident a few blocks away, he was riding with an irate shopper munching from a bag of potato chips in the back of the ambulance. Thankfully, he had not voiced any of his worry and irritation to her then. Professionalism on the job always paid off in the long run, especially now.

Brackett looked down the hall. "I didn't know that."

Her expression solemn, Dixie did not look surprised at all. She knew exactly who Sheila Dunbar was. "That, uh, fainting spell she had was probably just the first symptom."

Brackett put his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. "There isn't much we can do for her now."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

Next to him, Johnny stayed silent. Without much more to say, the paramedics excused themselves and left Rampart.

**

* * *

****%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was quiet, their cleanup duty at the station only interrupted by a couple runs for the squad. One was a back injury at a construction site. The other, a woman working on a craft project with her young daughter had gotten a pipe cleaner jammed up her nose. As ridiculous as her situation sounded, she had to go to Rampart to have it taken out, her tearful little girl riding up front in the ambulance.

Roy and Johnny arrived back at the station just as the engine crew was setting out dinner. It had been Mike Stoker's turn to cook. Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans. And while Johnny scoffed that Salisbury steak was just another name for hamburger, he still cleaned his plate. Everyone cringed over the paramedics' description of the pipe cleaner accident. It wasn't until they had cleared the table (Marco got the dishes this time) that Chet mentioned that someone from headquarters had called to tell them when Captain Hookrater's funeral would be.

"Yeah, but it's going to be up north of the county, up in Seaside, during our next shift. So, we're the lucky ones who get to miss it." Chet immediately froze, hand in the cookie tin in the middle of the table, his eyes going to the captain. But Stanley only looked thoughtful. Apparently the prohibition on disrespecting Hookrater had loosened since the tension of the morning.

"You know I never though about what kind of a family he had." Roy put his coffee cup down.

Stanley rested his chin in his hand. "He had a wife and a couple sons. Maybe a daughter. One of the sons is stationed at Camp Pendleton. It's going to be a military funeral. He was marine in World War II. In the Pacific."

"It's a pity he never figured out that the rest of us didn't sign up for the corps."

Stanley dropped his hand. "Oh, give it a rest, Kelly. The guy's dead. What more do you want?"

"Hey, I didn't want him dead, Cap. I just wanted him not here. He shoulda retired when he had the chance."

"Well, he might have, if he hadn't gotten so much encouragement to stay." Dark brows lowered, he frowned at his crew and nobody answered Stanley's implied criticism. He had made it plain at the time that he thought that the 'retirement party' where everyone but the guest of honor was celebrating Hookrater's departure, had been a dirty trick to play on a fellow captain.

Stanley lowered his eyes and reached for another cookie. "I guess it's just as well that we're not going. I wouldn't know what to say if I went anyway. I didn't really know him that well."

"Uh, Cap?" He looked up at Gage. "Did headquarters say who C-shift would be getting? To replace Hookrater?"

"I didn't ask. I guess the next person on the roster."

"Well we can only hope it's someone better than Hookrater." Chet mumbled under his mustache where a couple cookie crumbs had nested. Marco mumbled back.

"Anybody would be better than Hookrater."

**

* * *

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**

* * *

When Roy got in for his next shift, he saw Captain Stanley standing with Captain Bob Robertson in civilian clothes by the back bay door. Apparently filling in for Hookrater on C-shift, Robertson nodded toward him.

"DeSoto."

"Cap. Uh, are you going to the service?"

The older, gray-haired captain shook his head. "No. I didn't really know him . . . . but, well . . . . I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but it's just a shame that he never realized that the fire service isn't a spit and polish outfit. Spend all your time scrubbing the soot off, you'll never have time to put out the fires. But. . . . . I guess he went out with his boots on. He seemed like the kind of man who would have wanted it that way."

"Yeah. I guess so." Stanley, already in uniform, lowered his head, hand rubbing his neck.

"Uh, Cap? Did they find out what happened?"

"Oh yeah." Stanley hunched his shoulders. "Headquarters got the coroner's report. It was a massive pulmonary embolism. The coroner said that even if he'd been at Rampart when it happened they probably wouldn't have been able to save him. They said it would have been pretty quick."

Roy nodded. Dwyer and Benton would be relieved to hear that. A large blood clot in the leg maybe? No symptoms. Until it breaks loose and blocks a main artery in his lung. Cardiac arrest soon after that. If it had been that severe, Hookrater might have had a chest pain when he was lying in his bunk. Maybe he thought it was a heart attack? But if his blood pressure dropped too fast, he would have lost consciousness before he could have asked for help. Or realize he needed it. If he was awake when it happened.

"Well, I better get inside." Both captains waved him off. He strolled through the apparatus bay and pushed the locker room door open. Johnny and Marco came in a minute later.

"Looks like they haven't picked a new captain for C-shift." Marco opened his locker and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"It's still a little soon, isn't it?" Roy pinned his badge on. "I mean they haven't even buried Hookrater yet."

"Somebody's going to get promoted." Bare-chested, Johnny tossed his pink shirt in the bottom of his locker and unbuckled his belt. "All we can be sure of is that it's nobody as bad as Hookrater. Cause nobody _could_ be as bad as Hookrater." He sat down to pull his pants off his feet.

"Ya got that right." Marco took a clean blue shirt from his locker.

Roy only nodded his agreement, feeling a little guilty because it was still the day of the man's funeral. And he hoped that his friends weren't jinxing C-shift's prospects for another captain. Because as soon as you uttered the words 'nobody could be as bad as Hookrater' you were tempting fate to send someone who was.

They finished getting dressed and started their shift. At the morning line up, Captain Stanley had no news from headquarters about who the new C-shift captain would be. After checking out the equipment on the engine and the squad, they all went into the kitchen for morning coffee. The conversation turned to a lighter subject.

"Hey, Joanne and I took the kids to see that movie last night. Doctor Early was right. It was terrific. The kids want to see it again." Roy leaned back in his chair with his coffee.

Kelly leaned forward over the table. "Hey, did you go see 'Star Wars'?"

"Yeah. It was incredible. How did they do all that?"

Stanley looked at Roy. "Yeah? My kids want to go see that."

Roy grinned. "They're gonna love it, Cap. I guarantee it."

Marco joined in. "I saw it with my cousins the other night. I couldn't believe it. At the end when they blew up the _Death Star_, the whole theater cheered. It was great!"

"They cheered even louder when Han Solo saved Luke in the trench the first time I saw it. I've already seen it three times." Kelly nodded proudly.

"Oh you would, Chet." Johnny sneered, the one unhappy face at the kitchen table. "I don't know what everyone's getting excited about. It's just a movie."

Roy looked at his partner, puzzled by his sudden bad mood. "Hey, what's got you down? I thought you were going to take Charlene to see it."

Johnny made a sour face that told everyone else at the station just what happened.

"Ha! Dumped again, eh, Gage?" Chet grinned.

Johnny scowled defensively. "I wasn't dumped. Who said I got dumped?"

"Come on, John. We all know that look." Elbow on the table, Stanley rested his chin in his hand.

Roy put his coffee cup down. "Did you at least take her to the movie?"

Hunching his shoulders defensively, Johnny eyed the other firemen unhappily. "We didn't even get in. We got stuck in one of those stupid lines and some guy goes by and she thinks he looks like some Luke Footlocker or something. And then he asks her if she wants to join him, ahead of us in line."

"And she did." Roy gave his partner a pitying look.

Chet laughed out loud. "Haha! You got dumped by a girl while you were waiting in line to see 'Star Wars'? What happened? Did he kick sand in your face, too? That's pretty pathetic, even for you, Gage." Everybody else grinned, too. Obviously feeling picked on, Johnny got up and left. Roy sighed. Now he was going to sulk for the rest of the day. Unless something came up to break his mood. Which could easily happen. Roy could only hope.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 4**

* * *

Sirens winding down, the squad and engine stopped in the driveway of an apartment building. A heavyset woman in a white shirt and pants hurried up to them. They had just barely finished lunch, the dishes still in the sink, when they got the call. Two men electrocuted.

The woman, the building manager, didn't know what had happened and only found out there was a problem when the building lights went out, fuses blown. She bustled inside to a ground floor rec room with a large window onto a leafy courtyard.

"What's been going on around here?" Stanley saw two men, pale but alive sitting up against a wall by a ping-pong table. One of them held his hand and part of his shirt up to his bloody face. Cables snaked on the floor and broken glass crunched under foot. Something had been burning, but there wasn't any visible smoke or fire damage. Gage and DeSoto went right to the two injured men.

"Hey, how're you doing?" Johnny crouched next to the man on the left with the bloody face. Both of them were young, mid-twenties. He took the man's wrists. "Can you just pull your hands away so I can see what you've got?" He reluctantly cooperated. "Yeah, it looks like you've got some broken glass on the side here." He took out his pen light. "Do you think you've got any of it in your eyes?"

"Can you tell me your name? And what happened?" Clasping his wrist, Roy counted pulse of the man on the right.

"I'm Louie. That's Sam. We uh, were just trying something new out. I guess we should have checked the wiring one more time before we plugged the lights in." He winced and tensed.

"Got a little shock there, didn't you?" His pulse was over a hundred. Roy put his hand on his stomach, checking his respiration. It was fast as well.

"Yeah, it zapped me pretty good. I hit the wall. But Sam didn't get it."

"Yeah, I just got the broken glass. Thanks Louie." Blood had run down his face and neck.

"Hey, try not to move around so much." Johnny carefully checked the skin under his collar for more cuts. He already had the drug box open and had taken out a Kerlex. "You sure you didn't get any of it in your eyes did you?"

"No."

Roy checked Louie's eyes, but they were normal. "Do you have any chest pain there, Louie?"

"A little, but more like everything pain, all over my whole body," he grimaced and tensed.

Roy opened the biophone.

"Rampart, this is County Fifty-One."

Doctor Brackett answered.

"Rampart, we have two victims, both male." Roy gave him the ages and approximate weights and vital signs he had. Johnny gave him more, and the BP cuff. "Stand by for BP." Roy wrapped the cuff around Louie's upper arm, pumped it up and listened carefully with the stethoscope.

In the rest of the room, the other firemen collected the cables and checked the electrical outlets.

"What the hell is all this?" Captain Stanley held up a long fluorescent light bulb, supported by only a thin black strut along it's length, an end-cap, and a black handle at the other end with a thick cable coming from the bottom. Chet Kelly held a similar contraption, but with only the long metal strut and a stub of fine broken bulb fragment in the handle.

Roy read Louie's BP off to Brackett and then unbuttoned his shirt. "I'm just going to see how your heart's doing." He could hear the sound of the ambulance siren pulling up outside.

Behind the paramedics, Chet watched Captain Stanley raise and lower the florescent bulb and turn it side to side. Something about it clicked.

"Hey, Cap. I know what these guys were doing." Curious, Stanley looked at Kelly. "They were trying to make lightsabers."

"What?"

Peering at the handle and long bulb, Marco's eyes lit up. "Hey, Cap, he's right." He pointed at the cylinder Kelly held. "That one must have broke. Kind'a dumb using florescent bulbs for that. Anybody could guess that they were going to break."

Not knowing what code his men were now talking in, Stanley waved to the ambulance attendants who had just entered the rec room. "Over there. We've got two for you." He handed the florescent bulb handle to Kelly who eagerly looked it up and down with Lopez.

Johnny got his man on his feet. His cuts covered in white bandages, he was able to walk to the ambulance though he was going to need stitches at the hospital. Roy helped lift Louie onto the stretcher and packed up the equipment. They all paused when Kelly came over to them.

"Hey, you guys were trying to make lightsabers, right?"

Sam winced. "Yeah. It looked pretty cool, too. Until Louie almost electrocuted himself with his."

Louie lifted his head from the pillow. "It woulda worked fine if these ceiling wasn't so low."

Roy patted him on the shoulder to get him to lie down again. "You probably should have tried it with something a little less breakable."

Utterly baffled that his Roy somehow seemed to know what they were talking about, Johnny just urged Sam to follow the gurney out.

**

* * *

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**

* * *

"You're kidding? _That's_ what they were doing?" Johnny stood with his partner at the Rampart emergency base station with his partner. Nodding, Dixie McCall sat at the counter.

Joe Early grinned. "It must have been a lot of fun before Louie broke his."

"Fun?" Johnny sneered. "They almost electrocuted themselves. I can think of better ways to have fun than trying to recreate some stunt from a movie."

Nurses and orderlies passed by in the hallway by them. The technician was taking chest x-rays on Louie and Doctor Brackett was still sewing up Sam's cuts.

"Oh, but it's not just a stunt. You see, Jedi Knights have these swords made of light - - "

Johnny cut Early off. "I don't want to hear any more about it. It's like everybody's suddenly gone crazy about a this movie."

"It's a great movie. I mean, I wasn't really expecting to like it, but it's a lot of fun." Dixie nodded, her low sultry voice approving.

"You, too, Dix?"

Doctor Early's enthusiasm only seemed to increase. "You should go see it, Johnny. I swear, it will change your life."

Putting packets into the open drug box on the counter, Roy grinned. "He tried. His girlfriend dumped him while they were waiting in line. For some guy who looked like Luke Skywalker."

"Roy!"

Dixie's mouth pouted in mock sympathy. "Oh, poor baby."

Johnny's expression went from shock to obstinance. "Oh thanks. And if it's all the same to you, I think I'll skip the movie.

"Sheesh. Lightsabers. What kind of a dumb thing is that supposed to be?"

**

* * *

- - - End Part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 5**

* * *

Roy refrained from saying anything at all about 'Star Wars' to his partner after that, but he couldn't keep Chet Kelly from ribbing him some more about it when they got back to the station. Fortunately the Engine went out for a public relations run to a local grade school. The paramedics finished making the beds in the dorm. Johnny laughed about the cautious looks that everyone gave Captain Stanley when they returned from a 2 AM house fire on their last shift. And the worried glare he gave back.

"He looked like he didn't get any sleep at all when we got up in the morning."

"Can you blame him?" Pillow tucked up under his chin, Roy tugged the pillowcase up over it. "I had a little trouble getting back to sleep myself."

Johnny's grin faded. "Yeah. I guess not. But we would have made him feel worse if either one of us had checked his vitals."

They finished, but took extra time making everything neat, as if Captain Hookrater's ghost was lurking behind them, ready to criticize their work. They got a run before the Engine got back. Man with chest pains.

The place was just down the street from the station and they got there in two minutes. Roy turned the squad into the back parking lot of a warehouse and killed the siren. There was already a police car there next to a small truck by a loading dock and Officer Vince Howard waved them over to the group of people he was with. One older man was on the ground, another kneeling by him. Roy stopped the squad close to the group and shut off the engine. Vince came up to Johnny as he got out.

"What do you have, Vince?" Johnny tossed his fire helmet on the seat.

"Man over there just collapsed; says his chest hurts."

Roy came around and they got out the drug box, biophone, defibrillatior, scope and oxygen from the side compartments. But Vince stepped closer to them.

"We think the guy over there in the green jacket is smuggling illegal artifacts. The detectives are on their way now with a warrant, but we can't do anything until it gets here. These two old guys thought the suspect was going to skip town with the goods and came over to confront him on their own when one of them collapsed."

The paramedics nodded. They didn't really care about the police business, but the victim did, so it was worth knowing. The people standing around backed away, except for an older man in a hat, kneeling by the victim's head.

"Hi, how're you feeling?" Roy put down the scope, oxygen and biophone on one side of the man while Johnny knelt down on the other side.

Head resting on a folded jacket, he grimaced, his hand on his chest. "I have a pain, here." He had long, iron gray hair down past his shoulders. He was older, at least in his sixties, face sagging with tanned wrinkles. He wore jeans and boots, plain shirt and a bone and silver choker necklace with a large turquoise in the middle.

"Have you had this pain before?" Johnny quickly unbuttoned the beige shirt, exposing his bare chest. The victim was sweating and there was deep worry in his dark eyes. Johnny took his wrist, fingers lining up on the victim's pulse.

"Oh, maybe a couple of times in the past few weeks. But not this bad."

"You didn't say anything about that." The man in the hat sounded offended, but still concerned.

"Hmmph!" The victim winced. "And how often do you complain about any hurt, Doctor Jones?"

Roy looked up from attaching the EKG leads to the victim's chest. "Are you a doctor?" His face was lined and unshaven with gray stubble. He wore wire framed glasses, a white shirt and a bow tie.

"Ha, ha!" The victim grinned and winced again. "Only a doctor of old bones. But maybe my bones are old enough now, eh?"

Doctor Jones waved a hand back at Roy. "I'm an archeologist. And your bones aren't any older than mine, Sam."

"Well, we'll just have a look at you, Sam." Johnny pushed the man's sleeve back to wrap the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm while Roy called Rampart on the biophone. "My name's John Gage. My partner here is Roy DeSoto."

"How long is this going to take?" Roy turned to glance up at an irate man in a forest green polyester jacket and pants with a pale yellow, open collar shirt before clicking on the biophone.

"Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One, how do you read?"

"Get out of here Preston."

Johnny's eyes flicked over to Doctor Jones who, lips snarling, glared up at the man in the green suit.

"Oh, now you want me out of here, Jones?" Preston waved his arms. "Just a minute ago, you were trying to keep me from leaving. And now you've got these people to put that thing here," he jabbed a finger at the squad, "so I can't get my truck out. Is your friend even sick? I wouldn't put it past that crazy old Indian to be faking this whole thing just to keep me here."

"Preston - -" Jones crouched like he was ready to attack.

"Hey! Hey! Back off!" Johnny held up both hands, looking from one antagonist to the other.

"Let's step back here and give them a little room." Vince captured Preston's arm and pulled him away. Three other men in work clothes backed up as well. Jones settled back, visibly still angry. Johnny gave him a suspicious look as he finished writing the vitals down and handed them to Roy, but Dr. Jones stayed out of their way.

"Rampart, vitals are BP is 140 over 80, pulse is 100, respiration is 25. Victim is pale and diaphoretic. He has had chest pains in the last few weeks." Roy looked at the scope. "We're reading multiple PVCs." He sent an EKG strip to Doctor Brackett.

"Now, I'm going to put this on you, help you breath a little easier." Johnny lifted Sam's head a little to slide on the nasal cannula.

"IV D5W; administer 5mg MS IV. 100 mg lidocaine, bolus, followed by a lidocaine drip." The black phone receiver of the biophone held at one ear, Roy acknowledged Doctor Brackett's instructions.

Johnny reached for the open drug box - -

"Preston!"

"Aaauh!"

There was a noise and grunt behind him. Jones froze in a crouch, face angry again. Johnny turned.

Officer Vince Howard was on the ground. The man in the forest green leisure suit was holding his gun.

"Dave, what the hell are you doing?" One of the three workmen, a beefy, broad-shouldered man with a crewcut took a step forward, but Preston waved him back.

"You want to wait around until the rest of the cops get here to see what we have in those crates, Gus?" Preston waved a hand back to the other two. "Now, you and Tim go back and get the fork lift and get them. Steve, get the cop's cuffs and put them on him."

Steve, the smallest and youngest of the three hesitated, but a sharply shouted rebuke from Preston spurred him and the others into action.

Brackett's voice called out from the biophone receiver.

"Don't answer that." The gun stayed on Howard while Steve fumbled with the cuffs. Roy froze, still holding the receiver.

The handcuffs clicked and snapped closed over Howard's wrists behind his back. "Don't get yourselves in any deeper. There'll be more cops here any minute."

Preston grabbed Howard's shoulder. "Believe me, when I tell you, we couldn't get in any deeper than we am now. The only thing I've got going for me right now is that you're in deeper than I am."

The gun jabbed toward Johnny, Roy and their victim. "You! Get that thing out of the way." He waved at the red rescue squad.

"I have to talk the hospital! This man is sick!" Brackett's voice now shouting from the reciever in Roy's hand. Preston pointed the gun at his head.

"Do I look like I care about his health?"

"I'll get it." Johnny stood, hands held up at head level. "I'll get it." He moved slowly, as non-threateningly as possible. The keys were still in the squad. He could just move it out of their way. The faster these guys left, the faster they could take care of Sam. The cops could worry about catching them again.

"Now, don't get nervous with that thing. I'm just gonna move the squad for you." The muzzle of the gun stayed unwaveringly pointed at his chest. But when he got between Preston and Steve, holding onto Officer Howard, Johnny heard Jones shout out.

"Preston!"

The gun swerved back in that direction - -

CRACK!

Johnny heard the gun hitting the pavement without seeing where it went, but it did not go off.

CRACK!

Shocked, Johnny jerked back away from the sudden flash of motion in front of his eyes. Preston flew back onto the ground, clutching his face. Officer Howard kicked his foot back, catching Steve's legs, tripping him and then throwing himself onto the young man. "Johnny! Get the gun! Get the gon!"

Still startled, he looked down, turning around in a circle. He didn't see it. A white shirt went by. Doctor Jones came up with the gun in his hand. The gun clicked.

"Preston." Jones's rough voice promised murder with that one word. On the ground, Preston clutched his face with one hand while he supported himself with his other arm, furious eyes aimed at Jones. Blood ran down between his fingers, but he obviously was not hurt too badly.

Johnny heard laughing. It was Sam. He ran back to him. Roy was already on the biophone again.

"Sorry Rampart. We had a situation here for a minute, but the police have it under control now." He confirmed Brackett's last order. Johnny pulled packets out of the drug box and started tearing off pieces of tape onto his pant leg. Roy set up the two IVs, tearing open the packets, connecting the tubing; he started the fluid and made sure it went all the way to the end before clamping it shut.

Two cars drove up into the parking lot, one police, one plain and blue. Johnny heard a distanct siren. Probably the ambulance. Sam kept grimacing and grinning.

"I never get tired of seeing you do that. Told you, Doctor Jones, that you might need it for these people."

Next to him, on the pavement, Johnny saw the thick leathery length of a bullwhip. A bullwhip? He got the bolus and catheter, swabbed Sam's arm and tightened the blood pressure cuff to bring up a vein.

"All right, all right. You got your 'I told you so'." Jones had already freed Howard, who had his gun again, and now he walked back to stand behind Johnny. He still had his hat on.

"What's going on, Vince?" More cops had arrived. The needle went smoothly into Sam's arm and Johnny saw the line of blood fill the catheter. He pressed down on it while Roy attached the IV line and held the bag up. Johnny taped the catheter in place. Picking up the fat lidocaine bolus, he heard a siren in the distance.

His head pillowed on the jacket on the ground, Sam still had a big grin on his face. "Not bad for a white man."

Jones carefully bent down, tugged on the whip and Johnny moved his foot to let it slide away. He finished with the bolus, checked the drip on the IV and attached the second one to the line. And then quickly grabbed Sam's wrist when he lifted his arm.

"Hey, don't move around. You don't want to mess up your IV." He spoke sternly, but Sam used his other hand to point with.

"Hey. I know you. Doctor Jones, this guy wouldn't let us build a fire at a pow wow up on Crooked Creek. So, you do more than put out fires, Johnny Gage, eh?"

"Uuuh. . . ." He couldn't think of a response. He still hadn't quite comprehended the bullwhip. Across from Sam, Roy's expression was just as surprised. Sam kept grinning as he talked past Johnny to Jones.

"Hey, he's a braver man that he looks. Everybody hated him, but he wouldn't back down."

"And you like that." Jones smirked and adjusted his hat and glasses.

"No!" Sam looked offended. "I hated him, too. Some smart-ass half-blood telling us it was too dry to start a fire? But he didn't back down. We had to go home early because of him."

"Well, you can complain to me about that after we get you to the hospital." Johnny really didn't remember Sam in that crowd of angry men who didn't seem to comprehend how fast a fire could get away from them in dry brush with Santa Ana winds to fuel it. But he wasn't about to argue about it now with a man with an irregular heart beat. The conversation between the victim and his friend with the whip had thoroughly gotten away from him. Fortunately, the ambulance, siren giving off one last loud wail, rolled into the parking lot and headed toward them.

"Is that it?" A detective in a suit and Officer Howard had come up alongside of Doctor Jones. The detective pointed at the coiled bullwhip that Jones held. Vince nodded appreciatively.

"Yeah, that's it. I'm afraid we've got to ask you to hand that over to us."

Jones looked a little hesitant.

"I'm afraid it's evidence now." The detective held out his hand.

Jones reluctantly surrendered the whip. "Take good care of it."

"Don't worry. You'll get it back. I'll personally see it." Officer Howard nodded his affirmative.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 5**


	6. Chapter 6

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 6**

* * *

"It was incredible."

For once, Johnny's ubiquitous hyperbole fit the situation. Roy couldn't think of any other way to describe it. It had been incredible.

"Really? A bullwhip?" Dixie McCall sat forward, eyebrows raised.

"Really."

"And he rode in, in the ambulance with his friend?"

"Yeah. He's over there in chairs."

Dixie leaned over and looked where Roy pointed down the crowded hospital corridor. "The old man in the fedora?"

"Yep. That's him."

The man in chairs couldn't possibly have been any less than sixty, probably older. He seemed impatient, looking around and standing with a couple policemen. But Dixie supposed that youth was not as important as skill for hnadling a bullwhip.

"And you said he was an archeologist? With a bullwhip?"

Roy shrugged. "Maybe it's just a hobby. It sure came in handy - - "

"Hey! Hey!" Their heads whipped around back toward the waiting area. "Stop her!"

Crash!

A woman in white pants, a white head scarf and dark glasses shoved a cart at the policemen and an orderly and the man in the fedora trying to catch her.

Clatter! CRASH!

A policeman collided with a wheelchair (with a shouting patient in it) and went down, the second one tripping over him.

Arms spread wide, Roy moved to block her. Snarling, she ran right into him, grabbing his shoulders, pushing forward into his embrace and bringing her knee up hard.

"Aaaah!"

Roy froze and then bent forward. Dixie dove after her as she shoved him aside. Her grasping fingers caught the scarf and just enough thick brown hair to pull the woman back. Dixie got a better grip on the hair with her other hand, digging her long manicured nail in.

"Aaaiiiiihhhh!" The woman shrieked and tried to twist around, but Dixie kept her at arms length, keeping behind her as much as she could while Roy sank to the floor.

Suddenly people converged on them. Dixie let go, quickly pulling her arms back as soon as the policemen had the woman between them, one pulling her arms behind her and clicking hand cuffs on her wrists. Heart pounding, she stepped back from the scuffle and crouched down where Roy lay curled up on his side.

"Aaaaiiihhh! Let GO of me!"

"You're not getting away this time, Lydia."

"You don't have anything on me or my husband, Jones!"

"Then what are you running for, sweetheart?"

Dixie leaned close over Roy, lightly resting her hand on his shoulder, but she didn't speak, because he obviously couldn't, his blue eyes wide with wordless pain.

"Roy!" Johnny's voice sounded out over the noise of the others. His shoes skidding on the linoleum, the other paramedic crouching down by his partner. "What happened?"

"I guess the lady there didn't want to talk to the police. Roy tried to stop her and she kneed him in the groin."

"What?" Johnny mouthed the word more than spoke it. Then he winced in a heartfelt 'Ow' grimace. He bent down close. "Roy?"

"Uuuuuuuhhh." Eyes blinking, he kept his arms clutched to his body, his knees drawn up.

"Roy, can you sit up?" Johnny's fingers probed his neck, checking the pulse.

"Not yet." His voice coarsened with agony, Roy's head shook, a jerking tremble.

The scuffle with the cops and their lady prisoner, orderlies, the man in the fedora and now a hospital security guard, moved away down the hall.

Johnny ignored it, hovering close over his partner. "Okay. Try to take deep breaths now."

"What happened?"

Dixie turned her head as Doctor Early knelt by them. "The lady with the cops there kneed Roy in the groin when he tried to stop her from getting away."

Early winced. "Hey Roy, try to take deep breaths."

"Yeah." He choked the word out and grabbed Johnny's wrist and pulled himself up.

"Think you can get up now?" Johnny helped him struggle into a sitting position, back to the wall. "Just take it easy. Don't go too fast."

Roy panted. "I couldn't go fast even if I wanted to." He looked at the people kneeling around him. "I haven't taken a hit like that since basic training."

Dixie saw a young nurse's aide going by. "Genie, can you get us an ice pack in Room Three?'

"Right away, Ma'am." She hurried off.

"Are you going to be okay?" The old man in the hat, Dr. Jones came back from the group where the woman still shouted about her rights to the police.

"Yeah." Roy nodded, eyes looking up at him. "Do you know her?"

"Yeah." Jones frowned, his expression going sour. "Me and the Prestons go back a bit."

"Dr. Jones?"

A detective they knew joined them.

"Did you check the crates?"

Detective Crockett nodded. "There were some artifacts there alright, though I'm no expert. We also found two bodies. A man and a woman. And that does happen to be my area of expertise. Do you know anything about that?"

Jones sagged. "Oh, no. . . " He shook his head. "Sam's brother and his wife have been missing for a couple days. But we didn't think the Prestons would go that far."

"Well, we normally ask for next-of-kin, but given your friend's medical condition, I'm going to have to ask you to identify the bodies."

Jones nodded numbly. "Of course." He waved a distracted goodbye to them and went with Detective Crokett.

"What happened?" Johnny looked shocked.

"I don't care." Roy grabbed his partner again and started to lever himself up from the floor. With Doctor Early's help, Johnny got Roy on his feet. At Johnny's request, Dixie grabbed the paramedics' handi-talkie so he could radio in the injury. Then she led them to Treatment Room Three where they carefully eased Roy up onto the examination table. Early lifted the head so he could sit up.

Genie arrived with a bright blue ice pack. She handed it to Dixie and left. Dixie handed it to Johnny. He held it up and hesitated.

"Uh. . . . uuh . . . ." He held it out to Roy. "You - you put that . . . where you need it."

Rolling his eyes, he took the ice pack and matter-of-factly but carefully placed it over his crotch. And sighed.

Early stood on the opposite side of the examination table. "Do you want me to take a look at it, Roy?"

Roy pressed his lips together, suddenly embarrassed. His eyes flicked up toward Dixie McCall. She benevolently smiled at them all.

"I'll just leave you guys to handle it." She left.

**

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* * *

Captain Stanley was waiting for the squad when they backed into the apparatus bay of the station.

"What happened?" He held his arms out. "We heard the Code I at Rampart and then you were available." He eyed both of them, obviously looking for visible injuries.

Tight-lipped, Roy climbed out of the driver's side while Johnny leaned on the hood of the squad. "Do you want the short version? Or the long version?"

Stanley considered it. "Let's start with the short version." The rest of the station crew came around the engine to hear Johnny's explanation.

"Roy tried to stop a lady who was trying to get away from the police. And she kneed him in the groin for his trouble."

"Oooh." Stanley gave Roy a sympathetic wince along with Marco and Chet. Even the stoic Mike Stoker grimaced for his comrade. "Well, why were the cops chasing this lady at Rampart?"

Johnny put his elbow on the hood and rested his chin in his hand. "She was apparently married to one of the guys we brought in on that last run. And he was wanted by the cops."

"The guy with the chest pains?"

Johnny shook his head. "Nope. It was the one with the bullwhip cut on his face."

Stanley's dark eyebrows rose. "Bullwhip? The woman had a bullwhip?"

Another head shake. "No, that was the old guy in the hat."

"He had the chest pains?"

"Nope, that was his friend, Sam. He was a Shoshone medicine man."

Roy looked puzzled. "He was? When did he say that?"

"In the ambulance." Still leaning on the squad Johnny added nothing else, content to let the details of their last run dribble out slowly.

Chet pointed at Roy. "And it was his wife who kicked Roy in the nuts."

"She didn't kick me!"

Johnny winced. "Now that would have been bad."

Oooooooeeeeeeee-mmmmaaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

"Station Fifty-One - Child trapped in a tree - Eighty-Three-Two-Two Ventian Lane - Eighty-Three-Two-Two Ventian Lane - Cross Street Waveryly - Time Out, Four-Seventeen."

"We'll sort it out later." Stanley ran to the log book alcove while his crew got in the squad and engine. The bay door rattled open. "Station Fifty-One. KMG-365." He passed a note with the address to Roy in squad and ran around to climb up to his seat by Stoker in the engine. The sirens started up. Squad and engine accelerated out of the station.

Traffic pulling aside for them, they quickly sped out of the industrial area where the station was and into more residential streets. Holding the map, Johnny pointed out the last few turns.

They drove up to a large family house with green lawn and trees in front and back. A frantic red-headed teenager in jeans and t-shirt ran to them.

"It's my friends! They fell out of the tree! And my sister's stuck in it!" He jumped up and down in front of Captain Stanley as soon as he climbed down from the engine. "And she won't stop crying!"

They followed him around the side of the house to the backyard.

"What in the world . . . ?" Stanley pushed his helmet back.

Three worried-looking children watched from a wide balcony on the back of the house. Three more stood fearfully on the patio. Four more children, two standing, two in white clothes on the at the base of a huge oak tree that shaded the house. Roy ran to the group on the grass by the tree while the others looked upward.

A little blond girl clung high up in the leafy branches. Tied to the limb above her, a rope hung down to the ground halfway between house and tree.

"Cap, look." Kelly pointed. The branch cracked at its base, just below where the girl clung.

Gage squinted up at it. "Looks like the ladder will just reach up there; I think I can climb up and get her down, Cap."

Stanley looked doubtful. "Just. That branch she's on won't support any more weight. How're you going to secure it?"

He pointed at the rope hanging down to the ground. "That rope is tied up above her. I can use it to tie off the branch she's on to the main trunk to stabilize it."

"Yeah." Stanley could see that it was knotted and wrapped several times around the branch. "That might work. Looks like they were using that rope to swing from the balcony to that tree house." He nodded toward a bare tree house platform among the spreading branches below the girl.

"Oh, we weren't doing that!" The red-haired teenager who had greeted them fretted, looking between the tree and the firemen.

"Yeah, right. What's her name?" Stanley wasn't about to start arguing with some kid who wanted to deny the obvious.

"Uh, Tina."

Dismissing the older brother, he called up encouragement. "Tina, this is the Fire Department; we're getting a ladder and we're going to get you down in just a few minutes! Just hang on a little longer!" Her eyes squeezed shut, her only acknowledgment was to hug the branch tighter. "Come on, let's get the equipment."

Roy called out. "Marco, can you get me a child's arm splint?"

"Okay!"

They hurried out to the truck and squad to get the equipment, ropes, ladder, safety belt, and were soon back. Roy was waving and telling the other children to stay out of their way. And then he thanked Marco for the arm split, which was apparently for the crying little girl in the white dress. Mike and Chet lifted the ladder into place and then held it steady for Johnny who climbed while holding the loose end of the rope already tied to the tree.

Standing under her, Captain Stanley called up again. "Tina, a paramedic is climbing up right now to tie off the branch you're on. You're doing really well."

"I want down!" She whimpered, her eyes still shut.

"Okay, we'll be up there right away!" Stanley looked where Gage's blue shirt was just visible among the leaves.

At the top of the ladder, Johnny pulled the rope taut enough to check its fastness to the limb. It seemed solid and he wound it around the trunk and tied it off. But he had to climb down the ladder so they could reposition it next to the girl. He quickly climbed to the top again. Up close, he could see that the crack in the base of the limb that the girl was on went about three quarters through and he was glad he had tied it off.

"Now, Tina, I'm going to tie a rope around you first, sweetheart." She looked like she was about eight years old and much too small for any of their safety belts. He unwound a length of the rope hanging over his shoulders that he had brought from the squad. "I'm just going to slide this under you. So, I need you to lift up just a little bit - - "

She flinched as soon as he touched her. The branch groaned ominously. He quickly withdrew but the rope above held. He reached out again.

"Okay. Now I'm not going to let you fall, Tina." His voice pitched higher, he spoke as reassuringly as possible to the terrified child. "You're going to be okay. I just need you to slowly lift up a little bit so I can get this under you." She seemed to be expecting him this time, biting her lip as he slid the end of the rope under her stomach. Once he had the rope through, he reached over her for the end. It was tricky, keeping his balance on the ladder and tying the rope around her waist, but once he had the knot tied, he looped it around the top of the ladder, leaving some slack.

"Now, sweetheart, I want you to sit up slowly - - "

"Nooooooo." She hugged the limb tighter.

"You're gonna be all right. I won't let you fall. I'm here right next to you, but I need you to sit up so I can take you down on the ladder. You want to come down, right?"

She fitfully nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut.

"Okay now. I just want you to sit up real slow and turn towards me. You can keep your eyes shut the whole time if you want to."

This last promise finally seemed to convince her. I braced his arm on the thick branch supporting the broken one and leaned toward her. "Now, I just want you to turn toward me and put your arms around me, sweetheart. Can you do that."

She opened her eyes a crack to see. As she put her arms around his neck he scooped her up with his free arm. She squealed, but grabbed on tight and he unwound the rope from the ladder.

"There you go. See? You're gonna be okay. Do you want to come down now?" Head pressed next to his shoulder, she nodded vigorously. He smiled. "Okay. Ground floor, coming up."

He took a step down.

"TINA!"

"Mom!"

"What is going on here? WHAT HAS BEEN GOING ON HERE?"

"MOM!"

Down below, among the children and watching firemen, Mom had come home.

Tina tightened her grip on him. Johnny kept descending steadily, one rung at a time, down the ladder.

"Young man, you have got a lot of explaining to do!"

"But, Moooooooooooooommmm!"

"And you three! Get down from there! Right this minute! I don't believe this . . . "

The wrath of Mom continued as Johnny got down to the bottom of the ladder.

His partner confronted the parental onslaught. "She's going to be fine, Ma'am. She just got a broken arm - - -"

"A broken arm! Oh, you are in so much trouble, young man! Just wait until your father gets home!"

Chet and Marco were at the bottom of the ladder, stiffly steadying it, only their eyes looking toward the angry woman. Captain Stanley bravely stood up to her as Johnny took Tina over to where Roy had the drug box open. One miserable looking girl in a white dress sat in a patio chair with her arm immobilized in a cardboard splint. A blond-haired boy, maybe ten or twelve years old had his arm and leg bandaged. Oddly, he wore a pair of white pajamas with white tennis shoes.

Johnny set Tina down in an empty white plastic chair.

"There you go, sweetheart."

Tina didn't want to let go. He had to gently pry her little arms from around his neck and when she pulled away, her expression was stunningly similar to Chet and Marcos', her eyes large and fearful as her mother descended.

"Oh, Tina, what have you been doing?" Mom was a handsome middle-aged woman in styled brown hair with only a little gray showing and wearing a green and yellow checked top and blue slacks.

"She's fine Ma'am. She's fine."

Pushing her bangs back, he saw Tina's face contorted in tight-lipped tragedy. She wasn't hurt badly. Her legs were scraped where she had slid on the branch.

The story came out as Mom accosted Captain Stanley for details of the disaster. The kid who had met them was supposed to have been babysitting all the younger ones. Instead, he had organized the stunt with the rope. Tina, being a girl scout and the best climber, had tied the rope high up in the tree so they could swing, two at a time, from the balcony to the tree house. Or, as the children described it, swing over the chasm in the _Death Star_.

Johnny had no idea what that meant.

Everyone had been having fun until the branch cracked with the resulting crash and fall along with Tina being caught on the suddenly unsteady tree limb and too terrified to climb down.

The ambulance finally arrived. An older sister who had been shopping with Mom was drafted into service driving her younger siblings to the hospital in the family station wagon while Mom rode in with the injured.

"Mom!"

"Don't 'Mom' me! You are going to take them, Denise, and pick us up at the hospital because your little brother is clearly too irresponsible to be left at home on his own, or keep anyone younger than him out of trouble!"

"Moooooommmmm!"

"Get in that car young man!"

Johnny packed up the drug box. Roy was on his way to the ambulance to accompany the children to the hospital. The engine crew took the ladder away and Captain Stanley warned the mother to have the broken limb taken down as soon as possible. Johnny headed for the squad.

"Wait!"

Denise caught up with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Uh, Rampart General Hospital Ma'am. Do you know where that is?" Denise was a redhead with shoulder-length straight hair. Early twenties. Short skirt. Nice figure. Pretty.

"I'm not sure."

The ambulance started off. None of the children were badly hurt; they were not going in with the reds. He paused to give Denise directions.

**

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- - - End Part 6**


	7. Chapter 7

**A NEW HOPE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 7**

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When Roy got into work, as usual, he saw Captain Stanley and Mike Stokers' cars in the parking lot behind the station, along with C-shift's. Chet, Johnny and Marco usually traded places for who was last getting in, but lateness on A-shift was very rare.

He caught Mike, already in uniform, coming out of the locker room.

"Hey, Mike. How'd the extra shift go?"

He shrugged, his usual minimally-verbal self. The B-shift engineer had called in sick and Mike had covered for him. Roy didn't hear much before leaving his last shift, but apparently the wake for Hookrater had gone late. "It was pretty light. Medford and Morino were a little hung over, but they made it okay."

"So, it was quite party they had then."

"Yeah. That's what I hear." Roy waited, but Stoker didn't seem get that he might want to hear more.

"So, did anyone say anything about what happened at Hookrater's funeral?"

"Oh, yeah."

The smile on Roy's face got a little more fixed. Stoker's remained blandly pleasant.

The locker room door swung open and Burt Dwyer, still in uniform, came out.

"Hey, Roy!" A blond beach-goer, he had a big smile under his mustache.

"Hey, Burt. How was the shift?"

"Oooh, kinda slow actually. Only five runs. Told our new captain he could expect a lot more action from this place."

Roy's eyebrows rose. "You got a new Cap?"

Dwyer's smile broadened. "Yep. And a new day has dawned around here."

"Better than Hookrater?"

Dwyer laughed. "Ooh, way better. Now I'm sure he's not perfect. But we're just going to bask in the glow of somebody halfway normal for now. He's still here in the office talking to Captain Stanley. I'll take you to see him after you get dressed. . . ."

Stoker moved on while the two paramedics went into the locker room.

While he changed, Roy got the story about Hookrater's funeral.

Attendance at Hookrater's funeral had been modest. Station Fifty-One crew members along with a few other firefighters and someone from headquarters had represented the department. Some other friends and former marines that none of the firemen knew showed up, along with Hookrater's family. Hookrater's older brother had spoken nervously at the grave-side service about burying a younger brother who had died of natural causes. Hookrater's widow, a thin, grim-faced woman in black had said little other than, 'He was always a good provider.' A daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren said nothing at all. A son in a Marine dress uniform, who looked and sounded astonishingly like his father, said a few terse, but respectful words over his father's casket.

After the 21 gun salute and presentation of the flag to Mrs. Hookrater, the men in the group had gone to a wake at a local bar. Even before the first round of beers was done it came out that nobody in attendance had liked Hookrater. Not even his two sons. The second son mostly stayed on the edge of their group with his brother. There were mutterings that he had come down from Canada and was only able to return to the US because the president had pardoned all the Vietnam War draft dodgers. But nobody seemed to care too much about that. Eulogizing the infamous Hookrater took priority and the rounds of beer among the marines and firefighters kept coming along with the stories about who had suffered more under his command. Before joining the fire service, Hookrater had been a drill sergeant. Dwyer and some others had gone home before eight, but he heard later that the sons, marines and firefighters had gone back to the graveyard to set off some firecracks on Hookrater's grave.

Dressed, Roy went with Burt to meet the new captain.

Stanley greeted them with a smile. "Ah, Roy." He nodded to the man in the chair next to him. "This is one of our paramedics, Roy DeSoto."

The new captain looked like he was in early thirties, average height and build with dusty blond hair, a little on the long side, but still regulation.

"Pleased to meet you." He had a firm handshake. "I'm George Lucas."

"Welcome to Station Fifty-One, Cap."

"Thanks. I was just telling Hank here that I was pretty glad to have a chance to move back to the city from One-Fifteen. Especially before the middle of summer."

Roy recognized One-Fifteen as a brush fire station. A dry summer there would be pretty hot. But the name got his attention, too. He looked at the new captain's badge. 'G. LUCAS'. His brows furrowed.

"Uh, Lucas . . . . isn't that. . . .?"

Lucas rolled his eyes with a weary grin. "Oooooh, I'm going to be stuck with that for the rest of my life." He held his hands up in surrender. "I had nothing to do with any space movies. I'm George Lucas because my father was George Lucas and his father was George Lucas, too."

Stanley waved his hand with a grin. "Don't worry about it. I once served with an engineer named Jimmy Stewart." They laughed off the coincidence of Captain Lucas's name and Roy left to talk to Dwyer about the squad. Since it had been such a light shift, they were fine for medical supplies.

The shift change was otherwise ordinary except that Captain Lucas lingered to meet the remaining members of A-shift. Roy was sitting at the kitchen table with the others when Johnny came in last, chipper and with a big smile on his face.

"Hey, did everyone meet the new Cap?"

Everyone else had. Johnny pulled up a chair. "Ooooh, I'll bet C-shift is on cloud nine. Finally got a normal captain. Hey, and did you check out his name?"

Chet, who had been yawning over his coffee cup, perked up. "Yeah. But what would you know about it?"

Johnny's good mood went on undeterred. "Well, I just think it's kind of interesting that our new captain happens to share the same name as the director of the biggest film of the year, that's all."

"Biggest film of the year, huh?" Chet looked at him suspiciously. "Really? What makes you say that? I thought you hated 'Star Wars'."

"Hate it? Chet how could anyone hate a great movie like that? It's gotta be the greatest movie of the year. Possibly of all time. It's already a classic. It'll change movie history. Maybe even people's lives."

Roy sat back in his chair, arm on the table. "So, you took Denise to go see it."

Johnny proudly grinned. "Even better. We saw it twice."

Marco's eyebrows rose. "Who's Denise?"

"She's the older sister in that family on the run where those kids were swinging from the tree in their backyard." Roy already knew about her. He had seen the whole mating ritual on their last shift after he had ridden into Rampart with the injured children. Not only had Johnny spent extra time in the waiting area talking with Denise, when he turned around, Roy caught her looking at his rear end with a sly grin.

"You saw 'Star Wars'? Twice?" Chet looked doubtful.

"Yep. In fact, we'll probably go see it again tomorrow." He looked quite pleased with himself

"You better be careful Johnny. Another Luke Skywalker might come along and steal your girl again while you're waiting in line."

"Nope." Johnny sat back with a crooked, cocky grin, hands behind his head.

"She thinks I look like Han Solo."

**

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%%%%% END %%%%%**

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Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox. Thanks to Dawn for technical proofing on some of the medical stuff.


End file.
